


Ghosts That Linger

by kanoitrace



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartenders, Battle of the Bands, Childhood Friends, F/M, FelixTex siblings, M/M, Past Child Abuse, more tags to come i'm sure, reconnecting, s14 names for the mercs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7835143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanoitrace/pseuds/kanoitrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison Beth Gates ran away to join the army the day after high school graduation, leaving behind her life without a second thought. Eight years later, her father's death brings her back in touch with all she tried to forget. Or, it may be more accurate to say that it led to her living with her asshole brother who then brought her back in touch with all she tried to forget.</p><p>Leonard Church is working to get his PhD while also participating in the annual battle of the bands with his friends. The last person he ever expects to see upon walking into The Mother of Invention is his ex-girlfriend from high school behind the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So thought it's about time I try my hand at RvB fic. I'm still figuring out all the intricacies of this fic, but hopefully it'll all come together into the vision I have in mind. As such, more tags are likely to be added as it progresses. And hopefully, y'all will enjoy! Plan is to update every Sunday, so we'll see if I can keep to that.

The funeral had been nice, for as much as such things can be and for as little as Tex had wanted to attend the event. It was bad enough having to come home and help plan the burial of a man she hadn't seen in nearly eight years and couldn't stand, but having to deal with all the condolences from people who apparently have no clue about just what kind of man her father had been is some next level bullshit. There's really only one other person present who can understand her mounting aggravation, and as things stand, she kind of wants to put him in the ground, too. How dare he run off right after the sermon and leave her to deal with all these imbeciles?

She excuses herself with a tight-lipped smile from the group of old, church biddies closing in on her. Seriously, if she has to hear one more "I'm so sorry for your loss, Beth" or "You're father was such a good man. He'll be terribly missed," she's going to scream. Loudly. Probably obscenities.

She tromps through the rows of graves, flying by people who try to wave her down to talk. She's sure she's coming off rude, but she doesn't really give a rat's ass. Even if she did, she could always pull the mourning card.

She doesn't spot her asshole brother until she gets back to the road that cuts through the cemetery. Of course, the little shit is just standing under a dogwood, smoking a cigarette. She takes a deep breath, trying to derail all thoughts of running the jerk over with a car, before she makes her way up the hill to talk to him.

He glances up, spotting her before she says a word, and gives a lazy wave with the hand holding the cigarette. "Yo. Took you long enough."

"Isaac," she growls.

He whistles low. "Man, do you sound pissed. Could probably give Locus a run for his money. I mean, let's not, cuz, ya know, really not feeling the whole 'let's-rag-on-Felix' thing. After all, hardly seems fair. I did just lose my dad and all." And, of course, he's fucking grinning through his whole monologue.

Tex glares at him. "The whole woe-is-me-I'm-in-mourning thing would probably work a lot better if you actually looked sad," she chides.

"What do you think I'm doing up here?" Felix asks incredulously, gesturing around himself.

"Getting cancer," she deadpans.

"What, this?" He holds up the cigarette. "Yeah, no, I don't smoke. Buuuuut, I have found that if you seclude yourself and have something that makes you look like you have a reason to be alone, people tend to, shock of shocks, leave you alone. You should try it sometime."

Tex can't help but roll her eyes, to which Felix's grin only grows wider. She stares her twin down for a moment before sighing tiredly. “Can't believe you left me with those assholes. I thought you were supposed to be the people person.”

Felix shrugs. “Look, there's only so much stupidity I can take. They want to pretend the old man was some sort of saint, that's on them. I'm just not feeling it.”

Tex glares. “You think I am?”

Felix snorts. “Hell no. Actually, I'm really surprised you stuck it out as long as you did. And that everyone got away unscathed. Military life tamed you or something?”

She shrugs. “Just over this place. Tired.”

Felix drops his cigarette, stubbing it out with the toe of his shoe. “I feel ya there.” He leans back against the dogwood, stuffing his hand in the pockets of his black dress slacks. Tipping his head up to the sky, he comments, “It's fucking miserably hot. So haven't missed Texas.”

Tex sighs, looking to the ground, studying the ants plodding through the grass and around her brother's cigarette butt. “Yeah.”

Silence falls between them, the only sounds cicadas chirping in the background and the occasional slamming of a car door. Surprisingly, Tex is the one to break it. “Surprised your boyfriend isn't here with you.”

Felix scoffs. “Okay, first of all, not my boyfriend. Second, like I'd drag him to this shit show.”

A small smirk crosses her lips. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Felix narrows his eyes at her. “I will, seeing as it's the truth.”

Tex just hums a quiet, amused “mm-hmm.”

“Geeze, don't you have, like, some group of guys to go terrify or something?”

She shrugs. “Finished my last tour not too long ago. Don't think I quite feel like re-enlisting right now.”

“So what? You got nowhere to go?”

“Guess not.”

Felix watches her a moment, weighing his options. With an exasperated sigh, he says, “Look, just come stay with Locus and me for awhile.”

Tex quirks an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

He rolls his eyes and gives a casual shrug – all things Tex knows are his tells for trying to pretend he isn't a real human with real emotions. “Sure, why not? Locs likes you fine, and I guess family is supposed to stick together or some shit? I don't fucking know.”

She can't help the teasing grin that spreads across her face. “Awwww, don't tell me you miss your big sister.”

Felix throws his hands up in the air. “You know what, never mind. I take it back. You can't stay with us! We don't have room for rotten bitches.”

She swings an arm over his shoulders, teasingly saying, “Hey, no, I'll come. I'm sure Locus could use some intelligent company.”

He removes her arm from his shoulders with a look of disgust. “Fuck. You.”

“Isaac, I know we're from Texas, but really?”

“I hate you.”

With a shake of her head, she steps a few steps back. “But really, if you're serious, I'll take you up on the offer. Don't really have any other plans, and anything is better than staying around here.”

With a put upon sigh, Felix says, “When we get back to Dad's I'll call Locus and let him know to get the place presentable.”

“Surprised you care.”

“I don't, but he does, and I'd really rather not piss him off before I even get home. He may not let me in.”

Tex turns around to survey the cemetery, noting that most of the people who had come for her father's funeral are already gone. There are still a few milling around though, sniffling and trading stories as if he hadn't been a man full of hate who drove every member of his family away.

“Let's get out of here,” Felix says beside her. “Really sick of looking at these chucklefucks.”

Tex nods, and the two of them make their way to the rental car.

“By the way,” Felix says casually, “I still refuse to believe you're older.”

“Seriously? You've seen both our birth certificates!”

“Rigged!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lesson in history.

Leonard Church II's childhood had sucked. Like a lot. He'd had a shitty father, and an arguably even shittier mother. He had a fucking lame name that plenty of bratty little assholes had teased him over, though he supposed there were small graces in it, such as he was not named after his shitty father. Instead, he was named after his only nominally less shitty uncle. There were very few things he hadn't hated growing up, and even fewer people. Inexplicably, one of them had been the neighbor girl, despite the fact she was meaner than a snake and hit harder than his dad on a good day. Maybe it had something to do with the fact she'd usually aimed her fists in the direction opposite him. Either way, he'd liked her, then he'd loved her, and then when she'd packed up and left the day after high school graduation, he'd decided he hated her, too.

 

It wasn't long after that when he packed up his own things, left Texas, and never gave a second sober thought to what he'd left behind. It had worked well through under grad, and had been serving him well through grad school until about five seconds ago. After all, it's a lot easier to pretend you don't give two fucks about the pretty blonde who used to live next door when she isn't staring you down from across a crowded bar as the rest of the world falls away.

 

Reality comes crashing violently back onto Church with Caboose's excited cry of, “Look, I see Sheila!”

 

He watches Caboose run off to greet the dark skinned woman who is sitting in a booth not far-removed from the the physical bar. The bar _she's_ standing behind, serving up drinks for patrons while simultaneously watching him out of the corner of her eye. He feels his blood boil with something that feels a lot like disgust and shame and possibly even a little (a lot) of longing. That just leads to more shame and disgust, which winds up heating his face. And, of fucking course, she must know exactly what he's thinking because the green in her eyes lights up like it always used to when she found something funny. Not that she ever seemed to find anything funny-haha. Her sense of humor had always been a little closer to sick and twisted, something like to a cat playing with a mouse – never actually killing it, just torturing it until it needs fucking mouse therapy. And great, just fucking great, he's only in the same room as her and already he's losing it. The fuck is mouse therapy?

 

“Yeah, fuck this, I'm gone,” he says, about-facing and ready to head right back out the door.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tucker shouts, stepping right into Church's way. Church can already feel his eye twitching.

 

“The fuck you mean 'you're gone?'” Tucker demands.

 

“I mean I'm leaving, Tucker.”

 

“The hell you are! We have a fucking band meeting!”

 

“Yeah, well, tough shit. I've got other shit to do. Now move.”

 

Tucker's answering laugh is so sarcastic that Church barely manages to rein in the urge to punch him square in the face. “No way. No fucking way. You have got to be kidding me. You synced up all our Google calendars. I can clearly see you ain't got shit else to do! You almost had a fucking aneurism when Sheila said she had to work. Seriously, dude, I though you were about to go all suicidal and fight Carolina for putting her on the schedule. So what the fuck kind of shit do you have to do that came up in the four fucking steps between the door and here?”

 

“That's none of your fucking business, Tucker,” Church bites back.

 

“Fine, whatever! You can explain to Sheila why she wasted her break for a fuck ton of nothing.”

 

Under any other circumstance, that probably would have been enough to cow Church, but not today. Sheila's oddly terrifying form of passive aggression is infinitely preferable to stay here.

 

Stepping around Tucker, Church reaches for the door, but before he can grab the handle, it swings open.

 

“Well, well, well, lookie what we have here,” crows a loud, obnoxiously Southern voice. Seriously, Church is from Texas, and it's probably one of the worst he's ever heard, right up there with his uncle. He can already feel the headache coming on as Sarge says smugly, “A damn, dirty Blue runnin' scared.”

* * *

Allison Beth Gates grew up angry at the world. She may very well have been born that way. But even if she wasn't, life gave her plenty to be angry about. She was angry at her mother for up and leaving her and Isaac with their dad. She was angry at her dad for never believing in her simply on the basis of him being a sexist asshole and her being born without a dick. She was angry at her brother for running off and leaving her when they were only sixteen. Hell, she was angry just on the basis that she had to grow up in small town Texas next door to an asshole who beat his wife and kid. She'd even spent some time angry at God for creating all that shit until she decided she didn't believe in him anymore. It was just as well because having to go to church with a bunch of two-faced bigots made her angry, too.

 

Out of all the things that made her angry though, she could never quite put her finger on whether or not Leonard Church made her the most or least infuriated. He sucked at fighting but had an obnoxiously abrasive personality. She'd always had to throw punches for him. They'd bickered constantly, from the time they were kids all the way up through high school. But he got what it was like to have shitty parents and hate the world. He'd always believed in her too, which was the most infuriating thing about him, even more so than his big, nerdy brain.

 

Her dad had seen her as a failure from the moment she was born. Her mother obviously hadn't had high hopes for her. Isaac, in all fairness, had never seen either of them winding up anything more than bitter fucks. Her teachers had never seemed to expect much better. She was used to failing people, or at the very least having no one push her to be anything at all; the pressure of actually having expectations to live up to had been too much. It had been just another thing to make her angry. So she did what her family seemed so great at doing. She let him down. She left.

 

She's never once tried to pretend leaving like she had was anything short of selfish. She'd been an angry kid who'd had nothing but awful examples in the way of adults and relationships. Joining the army had seemed the logical next step to her, especially when her father told her she wasn't cut out for it on account of her being “just a girl.” Allison has been called a lot of things in her life – heartless, bitch, and crazy whore, to name a few. None of them bothered her quite as much as that had.

 

She'd all but run way from home, ready to move on and leave her life behind. She'd done a good job of it, all things considered. Eight years she'd managed to stay away, but eventually she had to stop running. That's more or less how Isaac had been able to convince her to come stay with him, which led to her bar-tending in some hole-in-the-wall place in Armonia. Granted, probably better this than trying to work at the place her own idiot brother had somehow found himself becoming part owner of.

 

Of course, had she worked there, she somehow doubted it would be the place Church just happened to wander into.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not much in the way of plot progression here, but... This actually was the first thing I ever wrote of this fic so.... Here it is, being shoe-horned in lol. It felt necessary to leave in, though. 
> 
> No update next week, as I will be out of town. Updates will recommence the following Sunday.


	3. Chapter 3

"And just where do ya think you're goin'?" Sarge demands.

 

"He's apparently got 'somewhere to be,'" Tucker says sarcastically from just over Church's shoulder.

 

Sarge lets out a boisterous laugh. "Running away in the face of the obvious superiority of the reds, no doubt," he gloats. "Well, can't say that I blame ya, son. At least you recognize your betters."

 

Church groans, experiencing the sound with his whole damn bod - eyes rolling, posture slouching, head lolling back on hunched forward shoulders. "Oh my god! You have got to be kidding me!"

 

Tucker's laughs obnoxiously at his plight. "Damn, dude, now what? Still gonna run away after that?"

 

Church quickly turns to face his so-called friend, chiding, "Tucker, he does not need your help."

 

Tucker shrugs. "Look man, all I know is I came here for a band meeting only for you to turn tail and run the second he walked in. Who am I to say he's wrong?"

 

"Tucker," Church growls.

 

"Oh, hey guys!" a new voice calls happily. Church turns around to see Donut strolling in, followed by Grif, Simmons, and Lopez.

 

"Sup?" Grif greets with a lazy bob of his head.

 

Church narrows his eyes at the group before finally focusing in on Grif. "Where the fuck is your sister?"

 

Grif raises a dubious eyebrow. "Psh, how should I know?"

 

"You live with her!" Church screeches.

 

"So? Look, man, the less I know about her life, the better. My heart's too weak for that shit."

 

Simmons snorts beside him. "I'm sure that has nothing to do with all the junk you eat twenty-four-seven."

 

"No one asked you, kiss ass!"

 

"Fat ass."

 

"She was supposed to be here for a band meeting!" Church shouts.

 

"Man, what the fuck do you care?" Tucker asks. "I thought you were leaving."

 

"That is not the point, Tucker!" Church shoots back.

 

Eventually, it all devolves into a lot of shouting - Tucker and Church arguing, Grif and Simmons arguing, and Sarge shouting out randomly about the "glory of the red band" - as Donut and Lopez wander off to go sit with Caboose and Sheila.

 

“If you idiots don't shut up!” growls a feminine and decidedly more terrifying voice.

 

Everyone immediately does just that, freezing. With another bone-weary sigh, Church turns to face his cousin. “Hey, Carolina.”

 

Carolina stands with her hands on her hips, scowling at them. “I agreed to give Sheila a longer break just so you could have your meeting, and this is how you spend that time?”

 

Tucker scoffs. “Man, you don't know the half of it. This guy here,” he jerks his thumb in Church's direction, “decided he was leaving anyway. I tried to tell him you and Sheila were gonna be pissed.”

 

Carolina narrows her eyes speculatively at her cousin. “Any reason you decided to just waste my kindness.”

 

Church snorts. “Seriously? Kindness? That's what you're calling it? Suit yourself.”

 

Carolina growls impatiently, “Church.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, no, whatever. I was just fucking with Tucker, alright?”

 

“Dude, what the fuck!?” Tucker shouts, but Church doesn't acknowledge it. He's too busy having a staring contest with the woman in front of him. By this point, he may as well stay. Besides, there's no way he's having any sort of feelings talk with Carolina, of all people, and she isn't just going to let it go if he does leave.

 

Carolina raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

 

He shrugs. “Yeah, really. What? Don't believe me? Gotta find some entertainment around this shit hole.”

 

The two stare each other down a moment longer before Church brushes past her, resolutely not looking towards the bar. “Come on, Tucker, we've got shit to do.”

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Tucker grumbles behind him, but still following him to where Caboose and Sheila are.

 

“Donut! Lopez!” Sarge shouts. “Get yer kiesters over here! We got strategizin' to do!”

 

“Awww, but Sarge!” Donut whines.

 

“Donut!”

 

Donut gives an annoyed sigh. “Fine.”

* * *

York walks up next to Tex, saying, “So I see you've had the pleasure of witnessing our noisy regulars.”

 

Tex glances at him, noticing his smile. Seriously, the guy is always smiling. She's almost jealous of his seemingly permanent jovial attitude, not that anyone would ever catch her admitting it. “They're something,” she says.

 

“Aw, they aren't so bad. Fun to hang out with most days.”

 

Tex quirks a brow. “You hang out with them?”

 

York gives a small shrug with one of his shoulders. “Yeah, sometimes. The crabby guy in the glasses is Carolina's cousin, so we see each other a fair bit.”

 

The corner of her mouth turns up in a smirk. “You hoping if you get in good with the family she'll like you more.”

 

York chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “Hey, can't hurt. Besides, like I said, they're fun. Pretty talented, too, though you wouldn't know it from looking at them.”

 

Tex says, “Yeah, I heard them mention something about a band.” She absolutely does not think of afternoons spent in cramped bedrooms with guitars and sheets of music and chords of half-though up songs cutting through hot, afternoon air.

 

“Yep. Makes sense they'd be buckling down soon. That band competition is happening soon.”

 

“Band competition?”

 

“Yeah, happens every year at that bar downtown, Tartarus.”

 

Tex narrows her eyes. “Tartarus?”

 

York just keeps smiling. “Yeah, and every year they compete. Never do seem to win though.”

 

“You don't say,” she replies slowly, meanwhile contemplating the death of a certain brother of hers.

 


End file.
